


Temporary

by Frin



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Gen, Light Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-17
Updated: 2014-03-17
Packaged: 2018-01-16 00:41:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 413
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1325290
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Frin/pseuds/Frin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>She prefers to not stay in one place for too long. She likes to move around. To travel and not place down too many roots.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Temporary

I'm just a temp and it suits me fine. I don't want to get tied down. Not to any one job, nor any one person.

I like to move about. Always moving on.

And I'm good. A Supertemp. I can type at a hundred words a minute and I have a very logical brain. Analytical. There isn't one filing system I've found that can outwit me.

The trouble is, wherever I go, they always want me to stay. I go in and solve their problems, usually by their request. My reputation is global now. I can do most of my employers jobs blindfolded and far more effectively.

I don't commit. Don't like the feeling of being tied. And I'm a loner as well. Prefer it like that. You only get hurt if you share it with anyone.

So, I travel the world troubleshooting and shaking off the people that try to attach themselves. It feels like it's been this way forever, but I know there was a time when I felt differently.

Sometimes I don't feel like I'm me. Like I'm someone else. Like I have someone else's thoughts. Perhaps I'm going barmy!

See, I'll be walking down the street and I'll catch a glimpse of my reflection in a shop window or something. I see my fantastic, brilliant hair and I burst with pride. "I always wanted hair that colour", I'll think. But wait, I've always had hair this colour! And I hated it most of my childhood!

I have these dreams, too. Vivid and scary and wonderful. I can never remember them, no matter how hard I try. Hurts my head to try.

Then there's this phobia I've developed for telephone boxes. It isn't claustrophobia. It's something I can't explain. I'm completely drawn and yet can't/won't set foot inside one. They just strike me as wrong somehow.

Lastly, there's my stalker. Yes, I know what you're going to say. I'm either very big headed or paranoid. But I swear I see him often enough to know he's watching me, wherever I am in the world. A tall, skinny man with impossible hair and wearing a scruffy brown pin stripe suit. Always the same suit. And he watches me until I look. He moves away so fast it's almost running.

If I try to fill the gaps I get a migraine. No, it's just easier for me to move on. Like I always have.

Knowing the truth will only hurt me.


End file.
